


First Impressions

by candleinthew1nD



Category: British Actor RPF, British Singers RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Acting, Allergies, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Filming, First Impressions, First Meetings, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Intimacy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candleinthew1nD/pseuds/candleinthew1nD
Summary: Harry meets and gets to know the man who has been cast as his lover in the upcoming filmMy Policeman.
Relationships: Harry Styles/David Dawson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ****  
>  _This is a work of fanfiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended._   
> 

“Alright, Harry?”

Harry sniffed and grinned meekly as he hid a small gob of snot behind his hands. “Yeah, I’m alright. A bit chilled, and with spring right around the corner, my hay fever is acting up. But yeah, generally speaking, I’m alright.”

“Good.” David reached across the table to hand him a handkerchief. It was carefully folded and, after Harry reluctantly wiped his nose and hands with it, he saw that it was even monogrammed, _DDR_ meticulously stitched in dark blue thread on the white fabric.

“Erm, I’ll have this washed and sent back to you. Thank you.”

Harry folded the handkerchief back up and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. Usually when out in public he dressed like he was about to walk the red carpet or attend an upscale party. He almost felt naked in his short sleeve blue and black button down and white chinos, but Jeff had advised him to err on the side of casual. _“After all, you’re meeting up with a colleague, not doing an interview on the press junket.”_ Not yet, anyway.

But clearly, David hadn't got the memo. He smiled mildly at Harry as he looked him over, from his neatly styled brown hair to his black cordovans. David was, perhaps, dressed more appropriately for the cool weather, in a long sleeve black Versace jumper and wool pleated dress pants.

"So then," he said abruptly, when the silence became uncomfortable. "You're from Holmes Chapel, is that right? I grew up in Widnes, very nearby. About 40 kilometers, give or take."

Harry's eyes brightened. "Really, you're from Cheshire, as well? That's amazing. It's almost like it was meant to be. The casting, I mean," he added redundantly. "When I first heard that you were cast, I looked up some old interviews you did for _The Last Kingdom_. I could tell from your accent that you're from the North, but I couldn’t place exactly where.”

David nodded and took a sip of tea. He set the teacup down and gripped his chin with his thumb and forefinger, deep in thought. “I was a little surprised,” he said slowly, almost hesitantly. “What I mean is, I was just a bit taken aback a few years ago when I heard that you had been cast in _Dunkirk_. A pop music idol with no formal training or acting experience, cast in an epic war film directed by the same man who directed _The Dark Knight_ Trilogy.”

Harry frowned and chewed his lower lip. “I was 22 years old when I filmed _Dunkirk_ , and I’ve been in the spotlight since I was 16. I’ve traveled the world quite a few times. I didn’t graduate from RADA, but I’m not a total twat. I haven’t gone to university, mind, but I **have** earned my GSCEs.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply that you were ‘a total twat.’ I apologize if I’ve caused any offense.”

“Alright. Apology accepted.” Harry covered his mouth and yawned. “I mean - and David, I promise, it’s the first and last time I’ll mention this - but you’re like eleven years older than me, mate. You’re bound to have a bigger acting portfolio than I do.”

In an instant, as if Harry had thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him, David’s face fell. His lips drew into a tight line, and his brown eyes hardened. He held out his right hand pointedly to Harry’s left, the one he hadn’t sneezed in.

“Well, thank you for making time in your schedule to meet with me. It has been a pleasure. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Styles.”

Harry sniffed and took David’s hand. “Likewise, Mr. Dawson. I hope that you have a good evening.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hi, Harry. How do you like your new costar?”

“Oh my god, Mum. He’s so...shallow and pedantic. He’s an arsehole!” Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. “He thinks he’s so much better than me because he’s a real actor. He went to RADA and all that. He thinks I only got the job because I’m a pretty boy and I’ll be a box office draw. He all but said it outright. What a wanker.”

Anne sighed and clucked her tongue. “Honey, there’s no need for that kind of language. Like it or not, you’ll have to put up with him for a little while. Filming doesn’t start for about another few weeks, and that will be three or four months. Then you can avoid him until the press tour. I’m sorry you and David seem to have got off on the wrong foot.”

“You could say that, but then _maybe_ I am being a little hasty...I’ve spent all of one hour with the man. All I really know about David is that he’s from Cheshire, too. He’s from a town about half an hour from Holmes Chapel, in fact.”

“He is?” Anne’s voice rose. “Where?”

“Widnes. I remember when Nan took me and Gemma there to see the Runcorn Bridge when we were little. I thought then it was the biggest city I’d ever been in, and it had like 50,000 people then. And here I am now, living in one of the most crowded, cosmopolitan cities in the world.”

“That’s right, Mum did you take you there. And to think that a costar of yours could have been there, amongst the hustle and bustle. Oh, I know it’s not very likely, but you know, it does sound kind of like it was written in the stars...” Anne’s voice trailed off.

“Mum,” Harry said firmly. “Did you not hear a word I said? He’s...oh, nevermind. I can’t say it again, you might track me down and box my ears or something.”

“You got that right. You may be a grown, independent man now, Mr. Hollywood Superstar, but I’ll never forget you in your little Goofy jumper and corduroys. You had misbehaved at school, but you wanted to go so badly I didn’t have the heart to make you stay home. You always were such a sweet, sensitive boy.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Harry paused and reached into his front pocket for the crumpled up handkerchief. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Harry Edward Styles! Did we, or did we not, just have a conversation about your cursing? Forget boxing your ears, if I got hold of you I’d wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Sorry. It’s just that I found something of David’s that he let me borrow, and I didn’t get his contact information. I’ll have to get Jeff to reach out to his agent again to set up another meeting so I can give it back. What a headache.”

Anne laughed. “You can do that. Or, you can wait a few weeks until you see him again on set, and give it to him then. Whichever you decide. I don’t mean be short, but I’ve had a long day. I’ll talk to you soon, love you.”

Harry smiled. “Love you too, Mum. Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Runcorn Bridge referred here is also know as the Silver Jubilee Bridge, and crosses the River Mersey to connect the towns of Runcorn and Widnes.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s first encounter with Emma Corrin in person went much smoother. At a small café in Highgate, they leaned toward each other over her plate of spaghetti Bolognese, while Harry settled for a cup of coffee. Within minutes of meeting her, Emma made Harry laugh out loud from the intensity with which she stabbed an errant meatball with the tines of her fork.

Unlike himself and David, Emma was from southern England, the county of Kent in particular. She had grown up in Seal, a small village of about 3,000 about 71 kilometers southeast of London, when she was not attending an all-girls Catholic boarding school in Surrey.

She had been apologetic as she made the sign of the cross and said a traditional Catholic blessing. _“Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, Amen._ Oh, sorry about that, Harry. It’s just that when I forget to say the blessing before a meal, I almost feel like God will punish me somehow for being ungrateful. Old habits die hard, and all that.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Sadly, as relaxed as I try to be, sometimes I can’t control my facial expressions. I want you to feel comfortable around me, Emma. I want you to be yourself.”

“Thanks.” Emma smiled and took a sip of tea. “Have you met David Dawson yet? What is he like?”

 _Bloody hell, here we go._ Harry snorted and covered his mouth to hide his grin. “I only met him long enough to sit down for some tea and chips, but I can tell you that from what I’ve seen, he is a consummate professional. He seems to be very serious and dedicated to the craft of acting. He went to _RADA,_ you know.”

“Well, that’s good for him. I read drama at St. John’s College.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I’ll be glad when warmer weather comes. I am sick to death of winter and days colder than 10℃.”

“Mmm, I suppose you don’t have too much trouble with allergies or hay fever, then. How lucky for you that spring officially starts tomorrow. As for me, I think I had better stop by the chemist’s for some Benadryl on the way home.” Harry sniffled miserably. 

He picked up the folded napkin under his silverware and sneezed. It was better than sneezing into his bare hand, he supposed, but the cheap feel of the paper couldn’t compare to the soft linen of David’s handkerchief. 

Emma smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I guess the weather can't please everyone all the time." She twined a finger around a strand of her hair and chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought.

Harry waited a few moments, until his curiosity would not let him wait anymore. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh!" Emma chuckled and shook her head. "I was just thinking that I need to pick up a few things from the shops before I go home. I didn't mean to space out."

"It's alright," Harry said briskly. "And I do apologize if I seem too forward, but why don't we go together? We could go to Tesco's and share a cab to get back."

"Okay. I think that's a good idea." She grinned, and it was the first time she showed her teeth.

* * *

"Oh, thank God." Harry closed the door of his flat. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

After living in the States for so long, he had missed the British variant of Benadryl Allergy Relief. To be called by the same brand name, they were very different. While the little pink tablets in the US had made him sleepy and almost turned him into a zombie, the Benadryl in the UK had an ingredient that was non-drowsy, and started working in about 15 minutes. 

The ride from the shop to his flat took about that long. He loved the feeling of his nasal passages opening up after washing down a capsule with a bottle of water. He had been in such a bad state that he couldn't even go into the store. Emma had bought the medicine for him, as well as some cans of soup and a pack of teabags.

He thanked Emma and exchanged phone numbers with her. He figured that he could always direct message her on Instagram, but it was nice to have more than one way of getting in touch with her if he needed to contact her.

As far as he could tell, David had no social media accounts, and he hadn't thought to get his phone number. There was a Twitter account and an Instagram page dedicated to news about the actor, but it was unofficial and impersonal. As far as Harry was concerned, David Dawson was an enigma. He would have to ask Jeff to reach out to David's agent to be able to get in touch with him again.

"I probably shouldn't wait until we meet up in Brighton to start filming before I see him again. That would just make us stiff and awkward around each other. It would definitely show, and we wouldn't be able to play lovers convincingly. So, I guess I really don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Before he could forget, or feel tempted to put the task off until later, Harry picked up his mobile and called Jeff.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Harry saw David was in Brighton, a week and a half before filming was due to start. Jeff had reached out to his agent, and they had arranged another meeting between them. Harry shivered, despite the fact that he was wearing the black wool double breasted coat from the music video for “Sign of the Times.”

It might have had something to do with the fact that it was only 9℃, but it was more likely because of the odd mixture of shame and lust that he felt as he stood beside the man, who cut a fine figure in a charcoal brown suit with a red undershirt. Seeing Harry again, David had smiled and nodded politely as he accepted his handkerchief, which Harry had painstakingly washed and ironed.

The Church of St. Nicholas of Myra was located on a hill that looked out over the city center, but Harry almost felt as if he were in another world entirely. He had been christened into the Church of England as a baby, but aside from Easter, Christmas, weddings, and funerals, he rarely if ever attended services. Jeff had got the idea that Harry and David should attend a Good Friday service, as a sort of ‘bonding activity.’

He had kept in touch with Emma, texting her a few times a week, and knew that she would be coming to Brighton a couple of days after Easter. She was going to spend the holiday with her family in Kent.

Filming could take anywhere from three to five months, depending on the number of reshoots needed. Instead of commuting to and from his residence in London every day, Harry was going to start looking for a flat to rent in Brighton.

He was normally pretty straightforward, but Harry found that he could not work up the nerve to tell David. Jeff had floated the idea of the two of them renting a flat together, another way to build a rapport and make their on-screen relationship more believable.

By the time he had gathered the courage to finally broach the subject, David frowned and pressed a finger to his lips to shush Harry when he opened his mouth to speak. It was time for the service to begin.

Harry trailed after David as he followed a group of parishioners into the church. The gathering was small, about half a dozen women in their sixties, and the priest, a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties.

He slid into the back pew beside David, who stared straight ahead and made the sign of the cross. Harry copied him and tried to assume a reverent expression. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing as the priest stood ominously at the pulpit, turned away from the congregation with his hands held up. One reason he had stopped attending church was that he seemed to be amused and laugh at very inappropriate times.

The priest raised his hands higher and solemnly intoned,

_“Almighty God, we beseech thee graciously to behold this thy family, for which our Lord Jesus Christ was contented to be betrayed, and given up into the hands of wicked men, and to suffer death upon the cross, who now liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen...”_

Harry zoned out as the service went on. At several intervals, he stood up when a Scripture was read or a hymn sung, made the sign of the cross, or knelt on the cushioned railing of the pew in front of him. It was so quiet and somber that Harry gradually dozed off, the side of his head leaning against David’s shoulder.

He woke up when David nudged him gently and whispered, “Follow me, Harry.”

He yawned and moaned sleepily, drawing the attention and irritation of one of the old women, who frowned and furrowed her brow disapprovingly. David smiled sheepishly and nodded. The woman huffed and turned away, joining the slow-moving throng walking down the aisle toward the chancel rail. David stepped out into the aisle, and then Harry followed him.

He felt sad and self-conscious as he and David made their way toward the altar. When David knelt at the rail and held out his hand, Harry knelt beside him and did the same. The priest walked down the row and passed out small white wafers with Anglican cross designs, and the woman who was the Eucharistic Assistant followed him with a small platter with what looked like tiny plastic shot glasses of wine.

_“The body of Christ, broken for you,”_ the priest murmured as he placed the wafer into David and Harry’s hands. The Assistant followed suit and extended the plate toward David, who took a cup and dipped his wafer into the wine. _“The blood of Christ, shed for you.”_

Harry mimicked David, who then ate the wafer and crossed himself. Then, evidently, the service was over. David tapped his shoulder and beckoned him to follow him. They slid out a side door and left, slowly but abruptly.

“So what did you think?” David asked Harry as they sat down in a nearby taqueria. “Did you get anything out of the service?”

Harry rested his chin on his hand and looked pensive for a moment. He wanted to say that he had got something out of it, and that it had been a riveting, spiritual experience, but he couldn’t.

He found that he didn’t want to lie to David, but he was also afraid of offending him or seeming immature or uncivilized in some way. He tried to keep his expression blank and his tone neutral.

“I liked the music, and the liturgy. But, if I’m completely honest, I thought it was all a bit...excessive. The absolute silence and the dark, dreary atmosphere. To tell you the truth, David, it kind of reminded me why I stopped going to church in the first place. It’s all too serious and sad for me.”

David laughed and covered his mouth. “I think, then, we have found something that we can agree on. Please don’t mistake me for a heathen - I am a Christian, I was christened and brought up in the Church - but I only go to services a few times a year, like at Christmas and Easter, out of respect and tradition.”

Harry smiled widely. “That’s about the last thing I expected you to say. So what you’re basically saying is that, like me, you’re a C&E Christian of the CoE - a Christmas and Easter Christian of the Church of England. I mean no offense, but you seemed like the type to attend church at least once a month, if not every time the doors opened.”

David pursed his lips. "I don't know what gave you that idea, but I'm not offended by it in the least. As you said in our last encounter, I am a few years older than you, but I'm not entirely a boring, dawdling dandy. We are both Millennials, after all."

“Right.” Harry picked up his hard shell taco and bit into it, showering the table with small bits of cheese, beef, and lettuce. “Bloody hell! I love tacos more than anything, but I always make the worst messes when I eat them.” He scowled and started to sweep the crumbs off of the table with his hand.

He took a sip from his bottle of Dos Equis and steeled himself for the conversation he was about to have. “So David, I’ve been thinking…”

“Well, that’s good. I’m relieved to know that my costar is capable of thought.” David laughed out loud at the stunned expression on Harry’s face.

He cleared his throat. “There’s no need to be an arsehole about it. So, anyway...David, I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do about housing whilst we’re filming in Brighton. I have a couple of houses in London, but the commute would be three hours and nearly 90 kilometers altogether. That’s just too much. So I was erm, wondering, if you’re amenable to the idea…”

David blinked and looked at him expectantly. “Go on.”

Harry took a deep breath and spoke in a rush:

“I-was-wondering-if-you’d-rent-a-place-with-me?” He gasped and took another deep gulp of his lager. He stared down at the tablecloth, too uneasy to look David in the eye. He tugged at his coat collar and felt heat rise in his face.

He was startled when David was suddenly up and in his space, reaching toward him to brush his fingers over his top lip. “Sorry,” he murmured. “You had a little bit of jalapeño sauce there.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Harry covered his mouth to yawn and leaned back subtly. They had been so close that he could feel the heat of David’s breath. Sooner or later, he realized that he would have to get used to being this close to him. He would have to get used to his eccentricities and ego. He would have to kiss him.

“Oh, and to answer your question, yes. I think it would be very beneficial for the two of us to rent a place together. If you like, we can go looking for a flat in the city soon. I’ll give you my number so that we can stay in touch. May I see your mobile?”

“Y-yeah. Here you go.” Harry reached into his pocket and gave David his phone. David added himself to Harry’s contacts and gave it back to him. “Send me a text later, and I’ll have your number so I can add you to my contacts. I’ll need to check my schedule for the week, but I’m fairly certain that Wednesday will be the best fit. Do you think that will work for you too?”

“Yes. I have no other plans or commitments.” He scratched the back of his neck and hoped that didn’t make him seem like a loser. Honestly, besides the upcoming film shoot, Harry had no pressing engagements. He had just got done filming for _Don’t Worry, Darling_ in mid-February, and won his first Grammy just a few weeks ago. He was exhausted, frankly.

Suddenly, he felt David clasp his shoulder. He lowered his gaze to see that David was staring at him, but not with a sense of pity, or anything of the sort.

He was looking at Harry in a way that was somewhere between the enraptured stares of thousands of screaming fangirls when he was in the band, and the soft, affectionate looks he had seen over the years from various friends and lovers.

David looked at him with all of his attention and focus, as if he were the most important person in the world. As if he were the only other person in the world.

“Alright, then. It’s a date.” His eyes widened as he looked at the time on his phone. “Is it really almost half seven? We had better pay and get out of here, if we want to catch a train back to London.”

“Wait,” Harry protested. “We can always call an Uber for the trip back. It will cost more, but I’ll pay the way for us both if you want. I’m not too much of a traditionalist, but there’s one thing I have to do every Good Friday. We have to ear hot cross buns.”


	5. Chapter 5

The following Wednesday David texted Harry a few listings of flats for rent in Brighton, and a photo of a house about an hour away in the South Downs of West Sussex. _This one is my particular favorite. I know it’s a bit far, but if we woke up early enough, we would still arrive on set in plenty of time. Please do consider it. I’ll see you in about an hour. Cheers._

“West Sussex? Nearly an hour away? If that’s the case, we might as well just stay put in London and commute every day...”

“Did you say something?” Emma looked up at Harry from the script she was reading, curled up on the other end of the sofa. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking out loud. David sent me a list of a few properties he wants me to consider renting with him in Brighton, and then there’s one just outside the East Grinstead town limits that he’s especially keen on. This one here, take a look.”

Harry turned his phone toward Emma so that she could see the photo. Her eyes lit up. “I recognize that place! I passed by it a few times as a child on the way to see my cousins in Southampton. It used to be a Plymouth Brethren chapel until about ten years ago, when the congregation couldn’t afford to maintain the building anymore. Oh Harry, this is so exciting!”

Harry laughed. “Calm yourself, Emma. I haven’t said yet that we’re definitely renting the place. David seems to know it pretty well, and you seem to somewhat, but I’ve never seen it. For all I know, it’s a hovel. It doesn’t look too bad from the outside, but then, it’s just a photo. It could be a wreck on the inside. Have you ever been in it?”

“Goodness, no.” Emma’s eyes widened and she crossed herself in mock solemnity. “Besides a friend’s wedding in an Anglican church a few years ago, I’ve never even set foot in a Protestant church. I’m afraid God might strike me down for polluting myself with heretic hogwash.” She shivered and clasped her hands together.

Harry clucked his tongue. “I know you’re only joking Emma, but good god, did you ever really believe that? It’s a wonder what kind of childhood you had, if you were spoonfed stuff like that. I’m not totally godless, mind you. I’m a card-carrying Anglican but, as you’ve noted, I guess you would still consider me a heretic.”

Emma shot him a dirty look. “Now Harry, let me stop you right there. I don’t care too much if you knock the Church, but please don’t try to drag my parents into your anti-organized religious worldview. It isn’t fair to paint all Catholics with a broad brush, and to say that they’re all intolerant, or backward, or bigoted, just because some of the Church’s doctrines are. I take issue with some of the teachings, but I can see the difference between the system and individual believers. Can’t you?”

Harry ducked his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. That was quite out of character for me, Emma, I promise you. I don’t know what’s come over me these past couple of weeks. I am usually one of the most laid-back, mellow people you’ll ever meet. That’s what I’ve been consistently described as in the media, anyway. My family and close friends know that I’m a bit insecure and that I can be a bit of a brat sometimes, but it all evens out.”

He stretched and stood up, walking into the kitchen and setting his phone down on the bar. “I’m going to get something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” Harry opened the fridge and reached in for a carton of apple juice. “David will be here about noon, and then I guess the two of us will be gone for the rest of the day. Do you want or need anything while we’re out?”

“That’s sweet of you to ask, Harry, but I’m fine. I’ll be spending all that time reading and re-reading the script, making notes, trying to memorize lines.”

“Filming starts Monday, I should really get started on that, too.” Harry peeled the plastic off of the straw and stabbed it into the juice box. Emma looked at him askance. “Are you serious? Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t bothered learning lines yet?”

“Yes, of course I’ve been reading the scripts. My method’s just not as...rigid as yours. I’m going to run some lines with David on the ride over. If you aren’t too knackered when we get back, I’ll get some takeout and we can come over to practice a few scenes. Oh, then again, maybe not. The scenes of all three of us together are a bit brutal, aren’t they? We could just hang out and get better acquainted with each other. If you want to. And if not, that’s okay, too. Just let me know.”

Harry realized he was rambling and took a few sips of juice to calm down. He wondered why even the thought of spending time with David again reduced him to a nervous, mumbling mess. In total, he had spent less than three hours with the man, only about half the amount of time he’d had with Emma.

Granted, after recovering from that particularly miserable allergy attack at their first meeting, they had gone to lunch a few times and for walks in Hyde Park. It was only a matter of time until the tabloids started publishing rubbish about them ‘seeing each other.’ Just because he generally got on with his costars and liked to spend time with them outside of work, he must be shagging them as a matter of course.

Emma was bubbly, extroverted and energetic. David seemed to be buttoned-up, somewhat arrogant and condescending. Harry still felt his cheeks burn when he replayed the first conversation he’d had with him. David Dawson was going to be a hard man to get to know, but for the sake of the film, and for his own peace of mind, he would have to make it work.

By the time the buzzer sounded ten minutes later, Harry had made the decision that the little chapel in West Sussex was where he’d be living with David for the duration of the shoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, West Sussex not nearly as far from London as Brighton is. As the crow flies, Brighton is about 105 kilos, or two hours, away from London by train or car. West Sussex, and East Grinstead in particular, is only about 50 kilos or one hour away from Brighton.
> 
> The photo used is one I've actually taken of a pretty little abandoned chapel I found in a neighboring village.


	6. Chapter 6

“Don’t leave it there. Move it just a bit to the left. Ah, perfect! Thank you.”

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from making sarcastic comments as David oversaw the placement of every single furnishing for their house, down to the cups and silverware. As soon as the black velvet upholstered loveseat from David’s townhouse in London had been carefully placed against the back wall, Harry had sat down and done his best to stay off of David’s radar.

_I can’t believe this guy, Mum. All he needs is a hat, vest, and little yellow wand and he’d make a great traffic cop. These poor lads had no idea what they were getting into when they agreed to help move us into this place._

He snorted and faked sneezing into his elbow to hide a laugh. The sound drew David’s attention. He stopped overseeing the move-in and came over to stand in front of him. He frowned and, before Harry could say anything, he pressed the back of his hand against Harry’s forehead.

“Good, you don’t feel feverish, but you don’t look well. Have you been taking your medicine?”

Harry smirked and leaned out of David’s touch. “Yes, Mummy, I’ve been a good boy and took some Benadryl. I even took some of that echinacea you swear by that helps you fight off colds. Living out here in the country will be a bit of an adjustment. There’s lots of pollen and dust and the like out here.”

David stepped back and folded his arms. “Excuse me for caring. We start shooting Monday, but I suppose it’s entirely fine for you to be a little under the weather. The hair and makeup crew can come up with the right concoction to make you look healthy, and they can cover the dark circles under your eyes. Please, feel free to party and abuse your body to your heart’s content.”

“Whoa. I was just kidding, David. What the hell.” He ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I’m alright, see? I’m right as rain. I’ll even help the guys finish unloading the van.”

When he started to walk toward the front of the house, David slid his fingers over Harry’s wrist to stop him. “No, don’t do that. There’s no need for it. We’re paying them to do a job, so let’s leave them to it, shall we?”

“Erm, okay, sure.” Harry smiled uneasily and sat back down. David didn’t let go of his wrist until he sat down beside Harry, one leg crossed over the other. He clasped his hands in his lap and sat in silence until Harry felt like it would be rude to ignore him. Somewhat reluctantly, he slid out of his shoes and drew his bare feet up, crossing his legs and turning to face him.

At that moment, his phone buzzed. He smiled apologetically and unlocked the screen.

Honey, I know you think you’re being funny, but you really need to cut the man some slack. You shouldn’t have agreed to move in with him if every little thing he does annoys you so much. I do hope that you will be able to put aside any little petty differences of opinion you have. You’ll be spending a lot of time together, so surely you can find some common ground.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“Hmm?” David’s brow raised. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah, just thinking out loud.” He turned his phone off and put it in his pocket. “So, when we get everything moved in and set up how we like, why don’t we order pizza and watch a movie or something? I mean, if you’d like that.”

David smiled and nodded slightly. “Yes, I think I would like that a lot.”

* * *

A few hours later, David and Harry were lounging on the loveseat, eating slices of pizza and watching the first episode of The Hollow Crown, a BBC film adaptation of Shakespeare’s plays revolving around English kings. In this case, they watched Ben Whishaw and Rory Kinnear as King Richard II and Henry Bolingbroke, who Harry knew from his Medieval History class in Year 9 deposed Richard and became King Henry IV.

He already knew it, but he was content to sit and listen to David as he periodically paused the movie to explain little historical tidbits, or to comment on the acting. “See how effortlessly Ben makes it seem? Richard is quite an arrogant, mawkish character, but Ben’s charisma and presence make him generally sympathetic to the audience. Believe it or not, I was actually in a couple of scenes with him at school.”

“He went to RADA, too? That’s interesting.” Harry smiled and tried to keep his eyes wide and alert, to show that he actually was interested. He really was excited, but he was also exhausted.

The move from London had taken more out of him than he’d expected, and as much as he hated to admit it, David had been right about him being a little ‘under the weather.’ The pollen from the ragweed and dander from the nearby livestock that floated on the West Sussex wind were hell on his hay fever.

As if to illustrate the point, Harry sneezed violently, knocking his plate off his lap and onto the floor just as onscreen Ben took off his crown and handed it to Rory, saying _‘God save King Harry, unking’d Richard says…’_

“Shit! Ugh, I’m sorry, David. At least the floor’s parquet. I’ll clean it up right now…”

David frowned and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder when he started to stand up. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s been a long day, and you need your rest. You take the bed tonight, and I’ll clean up and sleep right here.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Harry nodded drowsily and slowly stood up.

David rose with him and kept his hand at Harry’s back for support. “I do say so. Goodnight, Harry. Go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry, he really does have terrible allergies. 🙁 As a fellow sufferer, I can empathize.
> 
> Ragweed is native to the United States and Canada, but it has become an invasive species throughout Europe and Asia.
> 
>  _The Hollow Crown_ is actually a pretty good series, considering that normally I find Shakespeare boring and overrated. Ben Whishaw, Jeremy Irons, and Tom Hiddleston all star in it, among others. It first aired on the BBC in Britain and PBS in the United States. David Dawson actually has a role in the episodes _Henry IV, Parts 1 and 2_.
> 
> Next up we'll finally get round to the first day of filming, I can hardly wait to see how that goes. ✌️


End file.
